


092 - Single Dad Van

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Dad Van, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17438936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “can you write Single dad Van? Taking his 5, 6 years old daughter on tour with him? And maybe him taking her to meet the reader for the first time?” from @isle-of-flightless-josh and “Can you write about Van as a dad ?” from @vanswritings





	092 - Single Dad Van

You walked around the corner of the hallway and stopped in your tracks. There was a child standing in the middle of the room, looking around confused. She was in teeny tiny jeans, and her t-shirt had little cats and love hearts printed on it. Her brown hair was a mess and she was barefoot. She looked up at you with big blue eyes. You could see she was upset but wasn't at the crying stage just yet.

"Hey, honey. Are you okay?" you asked, crouching down but not stepping closer to her. She closed the space herself, walking the few metres to stand right in front of you. She had freckles across her nose.

"I can't find Daddy," she told you. Her little face was contorted into the saddest expression you'd ever seen. She was holding her hands together, twisting her fingers in anxiety.

"Okay. We can find him. Can't have gone far," you said. She nodded. "Do you know Daddy's name?"

"Daddy," she replied. It was cute, but you didn't laugh at her.

"What do other grown-ups call him?" you tried again.

"Van.”

A convenient coincidence. You hadn't met him yet, but you knew Van. You were on your way to a meeting to lay out the plan for their tour. Their usual tour manager, Mike, wasn't available. You were handed Catfish and the Bottlemen, and the opportunity to prove you could run a really fucking successful string of shows.

"I know exactly where he is. Let's go," you told her standing up. She held up both hands, and you realised she wanted to be picked up. You complied and sat her on your hip. She cuddled into you. The kid was clearly used to strangers and you didn't know if that was good or bad. "What's your name, honey?"

"Dylan."

Upon turning the corner to the hallway where the conference rooms lead off from, you were confronted with a very frantic Van. The moment he saw Dylan his face crumbled, and he ran and took her from you, holding her close. She laughed and tried to squirm out of his suffocating embrace. He crouched down and put her on the ground. She looked at him, holding her hands behind her back. His mouth was open in disbelief and he was shaking his head.

"Calm down, Daddy," Dylan said, still laughing.

"Calm down?" Van squeaked. He held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Where did you go? Where are your shoes? Fuck, baby, you can't walk off. You're gonna kill me, yeah? Fuck," he said quickly and pulled her into another hug. His knees fell forward and he sat back on his legs. Dylan laughed again and said something about cuss words. You couldn't hear her properly; her face was buried in Van's jacket, which she was trying to get inside while he was still wearing. He looked up at you. You waved with one hand in a small motion.

"She was just around the corner," you told him. He stood and pulled her up with him; she continued to try to get her arms in the jacket.

"I don't normally lose my kid," he said.

"I'm not judging you,"

"She gets distracted easy. Did you see her shoes anywhere?" he asked.

"No. Sorry. Do you want help looking for them?"

"It's alright. I'm going to be late to this meeting. Don't want to make the new tour manager think I'm a mess, you know?"

"I don't," you replied, smiling. He looked at you for a second, then his face dissolved into unsettled realisation. "You're all good, Van. Come on," you motioned for him to follow you down the hallway.

Dylan sat on his lap for the meeting, and she was kept quiet with a colouring book. When she looked around the room, whoever she made eye contact with would smile and make a face or wink at with affection. It was clear that the guys loved her. When she looked at you, you felt like you'd probably fall in love with her too.

…

A few days before the tour was scheduled to begin, your phone started to ring at 5am. It was Van and his voice was panicked.

"Dylan can't stay with my parents and I don't know what to fucking do, Y/N. I know a few people but I don't, like, really know them, you know? I don't trust them with my fucking daughter. She knows something's wrong too, and she's gone all quiet and sad and she's never been like this and I don't know what to fucking do,"

"Van. Hey, hey, listen," you had to hush him. You let a few beat pass before talking again. You got him to explain why Dylan couldn't stay with his parents. His dad had broken his leg, and it would be too much for his mum to look after them both. You obviously trusted Van's judgement to not ask about friends. He was in a band, it was a side effect of that that he'd not have as many solid relationships at home. Many of them disestablished when Dylan was born, he told you. You hadn't asked anyone about Dylan's mum, and considered the lack of mention of her was sign enough to not ask him. It seemed like the final option though. "Van… Where's her mum?" There was a silence on the other end of the line.

"I don't know," he answered finally. "She… Dylan wasn't planned… Hold on," Van disappeared and you heard a door close. He didn’t want Dylan to hear. "Abby didn't want her, we were too young, but it was late when we found out. She had a really fucking hard time not smoking and drinking when she was pregnant. She slipped so many times that I thought Dylan was going to be hurt. When she was finally born, it just kind of broke Abby. She went off the rails. We tried rehab for a bit, but it didn't work. I moved back in with my parents, and took Dylan. Abby didn't care much. Then one day she just left. Her parents didn't know where she went, didn't seem to mind that she was gone. Every now and then I try to find her. For Dylan's sake, you know, but wherever she is… Don't think she's coming back."

You weren't sure how to reply to that. It was a lot of incredibly personal information handed over so willingly. It was more than just contextual. You took a breath and tried to think of a plan. "I'm…" You stopped yourself from apologising. He'd probably heard it a million times, and you knew you hated when people said sorry to you for things they didn't fully understand. "Dylan will come with us on tour, then. Yeah? Does she have a passport?"

"Yeah, but… are you allowed to just decide that?"

"I do what I want, Van. Leave it to me, yeah?"

Truthfully, you did not do what you wanted. At all. You were accountable to at least three different people at work. You explained to each of them the situation, leaving out as much personal detail as you could. You looked up the school term dates and figured Dylan would only miss the last week of her kindergarten year. There would always be people to watch her, and obviously Van wouldn’t sue if anything happened - which, you assured them, it would not. Dylan wouldn’t restrict Van from doing his job, you promised. When they agreed, and your career was on the line, you called Van and told him to pack her bags.

…

On the flight from the U.K. to the U.S. Dylan was restless. It was to be expected. It was a long time for a child to be stuck in a small space. She rotated between the guys, but kept looking over at you. You were in the window seat, Van next to you, Larry next to him. She was pressed against Larry's chest. She had been counting the little alien heads on his Skrillex t-shirt. When she got to a number she didn't know she laid down and looked over at her father. Van was asleep, his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly. He already looked exhausted, and he still had weeks of shows to play and fans to impress. Dylan's eyes drifted back over to you. You smiled, and she smiled back. Larry shifted under her, trying to sleep too.

"Do you want to look out the window?" you whispered to her. Her head lifted and she nodded. You held your arms out and tried to get her across to you without waking the guys, but they both stirred. Larry curled back over quickly, but Van watched Dylan sit in your lap as you pointed to the clouds.

"There are different types of clouds," she whispered to you. Since you first spoke quietly, she'd taken it as a cue she should too. "Maybe next year at school I get to learn them?"

"Yeah, maybe. That would be cool," you replied to her. She nodded and sat up straighter to see out the window more. You looked over at Van. His eyes flicked from her to you.

"Thank you," he said. He'd thanked you dozens of times already. You nodded and turned back to Dylan.

…

Dylan adapted to life on the road like she was born for it. Music was in her blood though, so it really made sense. She curled up into small bunks and small spaces backstage and slept a lot. She was happy for you to take her for food without Van or one of the guys. She wore sound cancelling headphones when she watched their shows. That only happened once a week; she was usually made to go to sleep earlier than that. You spent so much time with her that you quickly became her new favourite. She would sit on one of the sofas in the bus (now a smoke free zone) and order you to sit on the floor in front of her. She'd brush your hair and put it into messy buns. You'd let her borrow your lip gloss and pick out your outfits. She asked why you didn't wear more dresses, and you said it was easier to wear jeans while working. She nodded like she understood the pressure of an adult job.

...

The guys had a few days off in California, and Van decided to make the almost two hour trip from L.A. to San Diego to the zoo. You hired a car for him and packed her little Care Bear backpack while Van got ready. When she was good to go, he picked her up. "Come on, Y/N," she said as Van opened the hotel room door. He paused and looked at his daughter, then at you. He tried to read your expression, but couldn't.

"You're obviously welcome to come," he said. You had a million calls to make. Bookings to confirm. Numbers to check. You also had the cutest child you'd ever seen in your entire life looking at you hopefully.

"Don't you want some time just you guys?"

"No," Dylan answered for him. He laughed.

"Guess it doesn't matter what I want," he replied.

In the car Dylan fell asleep. Van started to ask you questions; a lot of questions. He wanted to know about where you grew up, and who you left at home, and your favourite places to be. At first you thought he was making small talk, but it became apparent that he was listening carefully, and storing all the information somewhere in his mind. He was easy to talk to, easy to be around. He kept glancing at Dylan in the rear view mirror.

At the zoo, she came alive. She bounced from animal to animal and made you read the little information signs to her.

"You're better at reading than Daddy," she said. You looked over at Van, who shrugged in agreement.

There was a crocodile in water behind an enclosed glass wall. Dylan sat on the ground and was less than a metre away from the animal. She held her hands up to the glass and watched it. It was completely still, but she was completely enthralled. Van sat on a bench a few metres back from the crocodile. You crouched down next to Dylan and got her water bottle out from her backpack. You handed it to her. She looked at it then up at you, drinking big gulps. "Good?" you asked when she handed it back. She nodded and looked again at the crocodile. When you moved to Van and sat next to him he watched you carefully.

"What?"

"Do you want kids?" he asked suddenly. Your face must have reacted in shock. "I mean, because you're so good with her. It seems to come naturally…"

"I never really thought about it before," you answered honestly. He nodded and looked back at Dylan. Eventually, she got up and came over.

"She's my favourite," she whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" Van whispered back, lifting her onto his lap. She cuddled into his chest and shrugged.

"How do you know she's a girl?" you asked her.

"Because she is beautiful," Dylan said. You smiled wide and looked up at Van. It's the most wonderful thing you'd ever heard anyone say. "Daddy says all girls are beautiful," she finished explaining her logic. All girls are beautiful, therefore all beautiful things are girls, she assumed. It was flawed child logic, but it was a spectacular thing to teach your baby daughter.

You found a tree to sit under with Dylan as Van went to get ice cream. She discovered a little ladybug and started to follow its journey. She talked to it about the weather, and you knew then that you loved her. You dreaded the end of the tour and having her taken away. You also knew you had no real right to be part of her life, but you'd ask anyway; see if Van would let you babysit sometimes.

"Y/N?" she asked when the ladybug was safe on the trunk of the tree. Dylan plonked down next to you and put her little hands on your legs to steady herself. You got her water bottle out for her.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Did you know that Daddy wants to kiss you?"

You paused and watched her drink. "Wha- How do you know that?"

"He told Larry," she said. She pronounced Larry with two much E sound.

"And you were there?"

"I was pretending to be asleep," she giggled and rolled on the grass dramatically. 

"Maybe he meant another Y/N,"

"No," she sat up and looked at you seriously. "You is the only Y/N we are friends with." She took another sip of her water. You didn't know what to say, and you didn't know why Dylan had told you. As you tried to process, Van came walking across the grass. He handed you and Dylan ice cream. When she was done she hit his arm and yelled "It!" loudly. He chased her around, weaving through the other families spread out picnicking on the lawn. Her happy squeals drew attention, and you could see people thought she was cute. Van carried over back over to you, holding her high in the sky over his head. You swallowed the urge to grab her and pull her down to safety.

…

Dylan slept in the car again. You curled up on the front seat, your legs pulled under you. Van yawned. "Do you want me to drive for a bit?" you asked him. He shook his head. "Van?"

"Yeah, love?"

"I'm in love with her,"

He smiled and his dimples showed. "I know you do. Everyone knows. There's bets on if you try to kidnap her at the end of the tour," he laughed. He looked over at you. You could feel your face sitting in a frown. His smile dropped. He looked back to the road. "She loves you too. Tells me all the time. You’re her best friend now, Y/N. You have no choice but to be part of her life after this." You didn't say anything, but closed your eyes and curled up tighter. You felt Van's hand brushed through your hair once when he thought you were asleep. It made your stomach flip.

…

You pressed the home button on your phone to check the time. It was almost three in the morning. The knocking on your hotel door was persistent, and you stumbled to answer it. The light of the hallway flooded in and you rubbed your eyes and focused. It was Van and he was unslept and worried. He was in track pants and an old band shirt with holes all across it.

"She won't stop crying," he said. You could see he was on the verge of tears himself. You followed him to his room. Usually, people shared, even Van and Dylan, but she'd woken up sick that morning, so the guys doubled up to give them space that night. You had gone to a chemist while they did interviews and sat her on the counter. The pharmacists agreed she just had a migraine. It was making her sad though, and that was a better explanation for her other symptoms. 

She spent most of the day in your arms. You carefully timed when you gave her pain relief, and you made her drink as much water as she could. She loved you, but by the afternoon she started to cry for Van. He had skipped soundcheck and spent the extra hours with her tucked into bed. She had calmed down, but her head was still hurting. She was too little to understand why, and she shook with the pain. She slept through dinner and Catfish's set time, and Van came straight back to the hotel. You checked in on them before going to bed yourself. He’d done well to last to three. 

When you walked into his room Dylan was sitting in the middle of the big hotel bed. She was in her flannelette pyjamas, and she was crying and holding her head. She saw you and held out her arms. You moved quickly and scooped her up. You felt her head, she was hot. Van pulled a chair over and sat next to the bed, his knees touching it. You moved to sit on the edge of the mattress, between his legs. You rocked Dylan gently and asked Van if he'd given her more painkillers.

"Do you want to take her to the hospital?" you asked.

"Do you think I should?"

"I don't know, Van. I'm not a parent. She's the first kid I've ever really known,"

"Fuck," he said and buried his face in his hands. Dylan let out another sob; he looked up at her. He broke and started to cry. You stood up with her.

"Van. You need to calm down, yeah? I can't look after you both," you said and tried to not sound mean, but just in charge. You walked over to the small hotel bathroom. It was dark and cool. You moved Dylan to sit on your hip. You held her with one arm while turning the shower on. Van took a minute to follow you in, but he had stopped crying. He was trying to pull himself together but was exhausted and scared. You handed Dylan over to him and he kissed her forehead. You took off your hoodie and pyjama pants, and stood in underwear and a black singlet. You held out your arms for her, and he handed her back. You took her into the shower when the water was lukewarm and sat on the tiled floor. Dylan stayed pressed against you as the water fell on her back. You undressed her and kept checking her forehead until she cooled down. Van sat on the floor just out of the shower. He watched you and Dylan, and you could see him not know what emotion to settle on. She stopped crying after a few minutes.

"How'd you know to do this?" Van asked. Dylan watched him talk.

"Mum used to put me in the bath when I was sick. Always liked the water," you said. He nodded.

"How you feeling, baby?" he asked Dylan. She groaned, but it was better than a cry. He reached out to touch her.

When she was cool and calm, you gave her back to Van. He dried her and changed her into clean underwear. You told him to not put her in pyjamas; she needed to stay cool. You went to get changed yourself and returned as quickly as you could.

"Please stay?" Dylan whispered as she laid starfished between you and Van on the bed. You looked over at him.

"Yeah, please don't fucking go," he said, too tired and upset to bother hiding his feelings. Dylan tried to laugh at the swearing, but she had no energy. You nodded at them. Eventually, she rolled over and cuddled into Van's chest. You moved over to them. You kissed Dylan's cheek, and she finally fell asleep.

"You should sleep too," you whispered to Van. He nodded but didn't close his eyes. He still looked worried. "She's fine. Kids get sick. It's normal,"

"Yeah," he replied, his voice shaky.

"Van?"

"I have to do this again. Like, she'll get sick again and it will be worse sometimes and one day she's gonna break a bone or something and she'll grow up and get her heart broken and I have to feel like this for the rest of my life," he said. The words tumbled out, thick with emotion.

"Yeah. You're going to suffer, no doubt. But there's more good than bad,"

"I love her so fucking much, Y/N. It's… She's everything,"

"I know. She knows,"

"I uh…" You waited while he worked out what he was trying to say. You could feel your eyelids getting heavy and you shuffled down to get more comfortable. An ambulance siren sounded somewhere in the distance outside. "I love you too, you know." It wasn't clear if he meant in love, or platonically. His eyes closed then, and you didn’t reply. His sleeping breaths fell in sync with Dylan's, and you waited until you knew they were both okay before you let yourself fall asleep too.

…

There were only a few nights left on the tour. The guys were at soundcheck, and you had just crossed off the last item on the to-do list. Dylan was on your bed colouring. Your phone rang and it was Van. You let her pick up. She talked to him, giggling.

"Y/N?" she asked you.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Daddy wants to know if you want to go out for dinner,"

"Yep. Sure,"

She told Van yes, then asked you "What do you want?"

"Whatever you guys want is fine."

You high fived Van when he picked her up later. It was the tag-team parenting routine. "Sinnabit," he called, carrying Dylan upside-down down the hallway. She waved.

Half an hour later there was a knock on your door. You answered, and Van was standing there alone. He held out flowers. You took them and looked at him suspiciously. "For you," he explained. You nodded and walked back into your room. You put them in a vase then turned back to him. "You don't like them?"

"I love them. Thank you," you answered. It was a bouquet of mismatched colours and species. There were a few bright yellow buttercups, some multicoloured carnations, one purple chrysanthemum, some deep red dahlias, lots of lavender, and a bunch of random snapdragons. "Very…"

"Random? Dylan wants you to know she picked them all. She especially liked the smell of the lavender and says you can make the snapdragons talk," Van told you. He moved and pinched the flower of a snapdragon. It opened and closed like a mouth, and you laughed and nodded.

"Where is she?" you asked, picking up your bag.

"With Larry," You looked at him. Dylan wasn’t coming to dinner. It was just you and Van. "Unless… You don't-" he started.

"No! It's fine. All good. Let's go," you quickly said and walked past him, out the door.

As Van held doors open for you and ordered on your behalf, you realised it was a date. He was a little awkward and nervous and it was weird to see him like that. It was also weird to be with him and not have Dylan bouncing around at your feet, or sleeping close by. As the dinner went on though, you both settled into easy conversation. Van was animated and lovely, and you watched him talk and talk until he realised what he was doing. He apologised, and started to ask you questions. His face was open and engaged and you tried hard to not fall in love so quickly. You liked the veins on his hands and the freckles on his face. You liked how he kept tucking hair behind his ear and how he spoke to the waitstaff. You liked the way he loved life and how he was raising his daughter. You finished your drinks and accidentally watched each other for a minute before looking away with blushing cheeks.

"We should go get our girl, yeah?" Van said, standing. You followed him out the door and listened to his words repeat in your mind over and over. Our girl.

…

It was the last show, and Van let Dylan watch from side of stage. She sat on your shoulders and sang along to the parts she knew. She waved every time Van looked over and winked at you both. She got to stay up for a little bit after, too. When the clock struck 12.30am Van said goodnight to everyone and carried Dylan out the door. You kissed them both on the cheek.

Half an hour later, when you were offered another drink, your job done and free to party, you couldn't help but think of Van and Dylan. You declined and got a taxi to the hotel. You knocked on their door, and Van answered. He had just showered and his wet hair was sticking up every which way. You didn't mean to stare at him, but it happened. He smiled a goofy grin. Then, he leant over and kissed you, and you kissed him back. It would have escalated as you stepped closer and his arm snaked around you, but Dylan started to laugh from her place on the bed. You looked over at her, and she grinned the same goofy smile as her dad. Van stepped aside, and you walked into the warmth of the room; of your adopted family.


End file.
